Arrêter
by Friendship-Bravery-Souffles
Summary: "Stop." Clara finally said. It wasn't a bellowing command. In fact it was barely even audible compared to the level of voice the two men had been using. But it held all the quietly unsettling authority of someone who had quite simply had enough.
1. Part I

**A/N: Hello wonderful readers! For the purposes of this fic, I assume **_**the Day of the Doctor**_** took place for Ten between **_**Doomsday**_** and **_**Smith and Jones**_** as is hinted by the dialogue and the chronology of events with Queen Elizabeth I. **

**Originally, I wrote the first part of story pretty much immediately after watching **_**the Time of the Doctor**_** as a knee jerk reaction. It took me till August to find an ending, and till now to get it edited and decide whether I wanted to post the story or not. So, wordy way to say that everything below pays no heed to any of what we know about canonical Season 8 and picks up immediately after **_**the Time of the Doctor **_**left off.**

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><p><strong>Arrêter<strong>**: Part I**

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><p>When her hand slipped on the zig-zag plotter, Clara looked up hastily, waiting to be chastised for being clumsy. Waiting to hear his voice – <em>that<em> voice – tell her to mind where her hands were going. To remind her that the TARDIS was very sensitive and that she ought to be more careful with her.

The reminder never came though, in _that_ voice, or any other.

She didn't know this voice well enough to even imagine what it might say, or what it might sound like. All he'd manage to say so far was some comment about the colour of his kidneys, before asking desperately if she knew how to fly the TARDIS.

Of course she knew how to fly the TARDIS. Perhaps not smoothly, but she could do it.

_He _had taught her.

Throwing the final lever, she grasped the edges of the console as the TARDIS rocked and lurched again, although hopefully this time it would lead to a landing instead of another jolting jaunt through the Time Vortex. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she saw him, the new man, the new Doctor. He was clinging to the railing just behind her, staring wide eyed up at the ceiling, as if he'd never seen the rotors spinning before. She tightened her grip as a sharp jerk almost sent her stumbling back into him.

On a different day, she might have let go, trusting _him_ to catch her, or failing that, to pick her up again if she fell. To pull her back onto her feet and into his arms, possibly teasing gently about tripping, or, possibly expressing concern, with _that_ overprotective tone, asking her if she was alright.

The landing thud rang around them far louder than usual, finally stilling the console room around them. Fearing that it wasn't really over, Clara didn't let go of her hold until a quiet, gentle metallic groan echoed around her. It was an odd sound, it was sympathetic… _sad_… but then, Clara knew she wasn't the only one who had just lost her – _the_ Doctor.

A few shaky steps wrung off the metal floor behind her, and she finally released her grasp, knuckles white, and turned to look at him. This new man staggered a few more steps, side to side, not really seeming to have any particular destination. He scanned the room around him wildly, but almost fell over himself in the process, catching his balance only at the last second as Clara was already halfway to his aid. She stood straight and backed towards the console again when she was sure he wasn't going to fall.

"You can fly this thing, well, that's good then." He remarked offhandedly, voice a raspy growl that by all rights should have chafed his throat on the way out, since it certainly grated on Clara.

For a moment, she considered saying that she'd had a good teacher, but those words just didn't want to come out right now. "Yes, I can." She told him simply, emptily. Not enough words to trip over, or to catch in her throat, but enough to get the point across.

He nodded his head a few times; mouth opening and closing it again each time. His eyes narrowed and his attention seemed to focus on his own face. His neck stretched out at an odd angle, and a second later, so did his tongue. "This mouth is very strange. My words have an odd lilt." He told her, but with his tongue hanging out, this statement didn't do much to help her learn his new voice. While she was trying to think of something to say to him, he cringed into a rigid stance, hands flying to his two hearts. Clara leapt towards him, worried about what else could possibly be going wrong at this point. He held a hand out to stop her, though, before stumbling backwards, dumping himself into one of the chairs.

"Too much. Time to rest now." He tumbled out. Before Clara could react, his whole body went limp, and his eyes snapped shut.

She stared at him, her eyes probably as wide as his had been when they were in flight. What was she supposed to do now? Crossing her arms, she tip-toed closer to him. He was still breathing, and he didn't appear to be in any discomfort.

The snores that started seconds later confirmed it: he had fallen asleep.

Just like that, he had dropped down for a nap on her.

Clara closed her eyes, and took a few deep – if strained – breaths, trying to clear her head. She didn't know where they were. She hadn't exactly given the TARDIS a destination – she'd just been desperate to put them down _somewhere_ so they could sort this mess out somehow. Exactly _how_ she thought they would sort things out? That she wasn't quite sure of. The sting at the back of her eyes alerted her that tears were threatening to escape despite her attempts to calm herself. Having to land the distraught TARDIS had distracted her enough to stop them before. She needed something to do again, something to focus on. They certainly weren't back at her flat, so she needed to keep her head. She didn't trust this him. She didn't know anything about the man yet.

But truthfully, she wasn't entirely sure if she trusted _that_ him right now, either.

That admission made the need to divert herself more urgent, so she decided opening the doors was as good a way as any to figure out where they'd ended up.

It was a start at least.

She wrapped her arms around herself protectively again, sneaking one hand out to grab the door handle. As the door swung open on groaning hinges, a man leapt out of the way, hand suspended in the air as if he'd been about to knock.

"Hello, Clara." He said to her joyfully, a brilliant grin on his face. This Doctor's suit fit as perfectly as she remembered and his hands were now hanging in the pockets of his trench coat contently.

"No. No, no…" She stuttered quickly, taking a step back from the door. The world seemed to shrink around her, narrowing to only her racing heart and a fight to get oxygen into her lungs.

"Clara? What's wrong?" He asked quickly, following her as far as the TARDIS doors. He stopped there, hands coming up to hold either side of the doorway. As much as his concern was apparent, he was still respecting her space, acknowledging the fact that she had backed away from him.

"I… I can't do this right now." She choked out, turning her head as some of those threatening tears from before spilled down her cheek.

"What's happened?" He asked quietly, the expression on his face softening, expressive eyebrows knitting into worry. He leaned against one side of the TARDIS door, looking at her, silently asking if he was allowed in.

"Why are you here?" She managed to ask him, still turning her face away from him. The words came in her voice, but she felt as if someone else had asked them.

"You remember, don't you?" He inquired gently. "To freeze Gallifrey, we need to round up more of us – err… me?" He raked a hand through his hair briefly, momentarily lost in thought. "Well, to you two we _needed _to round up more of… me… but, to me we _need _to round up more of… well… me…"

"I remember."

"Clara–"

"He isn't any good to you right now, come back sometime later." She closed her eyes, adding without quite meaning to, "He isn't any good to anyone right now."

"I'm not worried about me – him, right now." The Doctor said as he walked into the TARDIS, approaching her with caution as she took another step back.

"Clara, look at me, please?"

She didn't look up, but she felt his hand settle on her shoulder, before sliding down her arm and taking a gentle hold onto her elbow. She hadn't realized there were faint tremors running through her body until he was tenderly steadying her.

"It's just happened, hasn't it? He– I..? Whatever, you just saw him regenerate, didn't you?"

She flicked her eyes to him; seeing this Doctor's gaze focused on the man slumped in a chair around the console. The new Doctor was still snoring, louder in fact than he had been before.

"Yes."

His attention settled onto her before she could drop her eyes again, and he immediately fixed onto the tears slipping down her face. She bit her lip, tensing under the still gentle pressure at her elbow.

The Doctor sighed softly, and pulled her into him, wrapping her into a tight hug. At first, she wasn't sure if that was what she wanted.

She was hurt.

She was angry.

She was just so… so tired, so spent.

This him was almost the same height as _that_ him had been, so she fit against him in a similar manner. That thought wasn't a comfort at the moment. She took a deep breath that escaped her as more of a sob than an exhale, which did nothing to loosen his hold on her.

"This has to be tampering with… timelines… or something." She tried to rationalize to him as her heart began to ease to a less frantic rhythm and her thoughts, and words, came easier.

"That isn't what I'm worried about right now, but, if it makes you feel better, the time streams are out of sync, so I'm probably not going to be able to retain any of this." He told her. The words haunted her, as _his_ voice echoed in her head, the memory as clear as if he was standing beside her.

_The time streams are out of sync. You can't retain it, no._

He took a step back, hands settling on her shoulders as he did a once over of her quickly.

"Are you okay? Were you hurt at all?"

"He didn't… he didn't get _killed_… so to speak… there wasn't any real danger, in the end." She said carefully. Try as she might, she couldn't connect the man holding her now to the one in the chair, or the person he'd been before that.

"I didn't ask about him, I asked about you." He insisted.

She opened her mouth, but shut it again quickly, instead looking at his eyes, his big sad eyes. She couldn't lie to him, he could see that she wasn't okay by simply looking at her face, she knew that. But, she also didn't know how to tell him she wasn't okay, or how she wasn't okay.

He nodded slightly, seeming to understand what she meant without using words. He slid a hand down to find her hand, twining fingers through hers and leading her towards the door.

"How bout we go for a walk then? Get you some air. It's a lovely day out."

She pulled him to a halt, a sense of terror shooting through her veins at the prospect of walking out that door again.

"I can't leave the TARDIS." She told him quickly.

"Clara, he isn't going anywhere for quite a while. Regeneration… it's tough, quite a shock to the system, I don't think I'll – he'll – be up to going anywhere anytime soon." He told her tentatively, casting another look at the snoring figure.

"I didn't mean I can't leave him," she admitted.

This freshly minted Doctor didn't seem to know how to fly his own ship, but if he woke up? Who knew…

_He_ had sent her away.

_Twice_.

"If I leave, I'm…the TARDIS might not still be here when I come back."

The Doctor gave her an incredulous look, a greater understanding seeming to light his eyes, though he didn't press her.

"Well, I happen to have my TARDIS parked a few streets over. So, that happens, I'll take you home, or wherever you need to go myself." He promised. A finger found its way under her chin, raising her face to look at him. "If you don't mind my _grunge_ phase that is." He added with a wink. She offered him a small smile, which made him beam at her again.

"Right then, Clara Oswald, may I introduce you… to Amsterdam!" He said warmly, sweeping the doors open for her.


	2. Part II

**Arrêter****: Part II  
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><p>When she had opened the doors before, she was too caught up by the Doctor's appearance to take in anything around her. The TARDIS had landed on a narrow cobbled street. It was cast in shadow despite the sun peaking out overhead. The buildings seemed to tilt closer together above street level, blocking the light from reaching the ground.<p>

A few feet behind them, a shuttered set of windows flew open, and a woman could be heard shouting at someone who was sneaking down the alleyway. The Doctor chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze before striding away in the opposite direction. Clara could see more light at the end of the narrow path. It opened onto a wider street, which was snugged up against a busy canal. Wooden vessels of varying sizes dotted the water, some tied down, others lazily moving up and down the waterway. The Doctor steered them closer to the edge of the canal, swinging their joined hands soothingly. People bustled about, carrying baskets of bread, rolling barrels towards the various docks. More than once, a pedestrian jumped out of the way of a moving carriage, as the walkway – or possibly road – beside the canal was too narrow to accommodate both comfortably.

Clara let herself become lost to her surroundings, taking it all in. Breathing deep breaths of air from a century long past to her, watching people long dead from her perspective scramble about happily, and tried to sort out the feelings clawing at her chest from the inside. The Doctor beside her never let his grip slacken on her hand, which seemed to ground her back to reality every time she slipped a little further away. When she slipped in a much more literal sense, foot finding a loose cobble that sent her off balance, he caught her.

He didn't tease about her loss of coordination, or become suddenly overprotective. No, he just said very quietly, and very simply, "I've got you," As he righted her and offered her his elbow to hold instead of his hand. She took it, which brought them closer as they continued their ambling along the Dutch canal.

A sharp shout somewhere to her left snapped Clara back fully into the world going by around her. When she tugged on the Doctor's arm towards the sound, though, he stood fast. Her head snapped around to look at him, but what she saw surprised her. His keen eyes weren't scanning for the source of the noise. Instead they were locked onto her. He was younger, but those brown eyes had a melancholic look to them that was unique in an incredibly familiar sort of way. The quality of his gaze had nothing to do with his age, she decided. It had to be something intrinsic to this man, this Doctor. An open emotional connection, feelings expressed so strongly that she could only imagine how deeply they were felt.

"Aren't we going to go see what's wrong?" She finally asked, her voice wavering slightly over the question. It made her feel exposed and abruptly unsure of herself. She sucked in a deep breath of air, and turned her eyes away from his face. "Whoever that was, they might need our help, right?"

She fought to blank her face as a finger tucked under her chin again, slowly easing it up.

"People that need help don't always scream, Clara." He told her earnestly.

She dropped her eyes, but leaned into the gentle touch of his hand that was now cupping her cheek.

"No, they don't." The words slipped out by accident, tugged from their moorings by the waves of feeling he seemed to be stirring, his own force of gravity pulling at the tides of her emotions.

"That doesn't mean they don't deserve help."

In the time it took for a double heart beat, she stepped into him, letting her hands rest on his chest and tucking her head under his chin. The Doctors arms wrapped around her, almost caging her in a protective fashion.

"I can be really thick sometimes, Clara Oswald. Incredibly think. _Monumentally_ thick. That doesn't seem to get any better with age. I make poor decisions. I hurt people, even sometimes the people I care about the most. I've done a lot of things I regret, and I also _haven't_ done a lot of things I wish I had. Whatever I've done to you, even if it wasn't exactly _me_ who did it, I am so, so sorry. And I'm tempted to give myself a proper kick when I see him again, too. One of the benefits of time travel I guess. When you say 'I could kick myself,' occasionally you get the chance to do just that."

She chuckled at the last bit, the levity in his voice bringing a smile to her lips.

"What can I do to help you, Clara? I may be an 'old idiot' sometimes, but 'any old idiot can be a hero,' eh? Today I'm happy to be yours, since a Doctor doesn't seem to have helped much."

"Help me teach him how to fly the TARDIS? I'm okay on my own… but I'm better as a co-pilot."

He signed, drooping his frame around her.

"What about _you_ though, Clara – _just_ you, no one else."

_You. No one else. Clara._

She whispered in clips as her bravery to speak peaked and fell. "Stay… just for a little while… till I know I can get home again… that I won't be lost …"

"Of course."

She squeaked as he shifted suddenly, scooping her up bridal style and jaunting effortlessly to a small side street. As they rounded the corner, his TARDIS came into view. Clara braced herself as they got closer, assuming he'd put her down to unlock the door, but he simply shifted the way she was cradled against his chest and opened the door with ease. The inside of this TARDIS somehow felt less… mechanical than _his_ TARDIS did. It would have been easier to believe this one was alive. There was something organic about the way the beams filled the ceiling, Clara decided.

"What are we doing?" She finally asked as he gently set her into a duck-taped jump seat and began fiddling with the controls.

"I have now set a Rassillien Space-Temporal Linkage between the two TARDIS'." He announced. "If the other one moves so much as a meter to the left, my TARDIS will match her. If she goes back thirty seconds in time, we do the same. There is no way he can leave you behind, even if he wakes up knowing how to fly the ship."

Clara nodded slightly, a tiny smile of relief framing her tired face.

"It also syncs certain aspects of the interior architecture. Your room is probably right where you left it, if you want to rest in peace for a bit. Process everything and get your strength back."

"Not sure I want to be off on my own right now really."

"I wasn't trying to send you away. Just wanted to give you a bit of time and space of your own if you wanted it."

She turned an idea over in her mind before voicing it aloud. Weighing the worth and problems associated with it. What trumped all was her need not to be alone at that moment.

"Could you… would you maybe hold me? Just for a bit… I… it shouldn't, but it helps. Having you here helps me keep my thoughts straight."

He went quiet for a moment as he crammed into the far end of the jump seat, patting his shoulder with the opposing hand as he opened his arm to her in silent invitation. She settled into it before she could convince herself it was a bad idea, sighing when his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Sometimes, you've just got to let it all go for a moment. Stop trying to keep it all straight. Even my big head can't take everything that's going on in it some days. Let the thoughts float around on their own, let them land in the places you'd never thought they'd fit, and you might find it's the perfect place for them. And if not, well, remember you can always think more on it later. But in the meanwhile, just let it all go…" He trailed off, squeezing her soothingly against him.

_Run you clever boy, and remember_…

She managed to fight the first fresh tear that welled in her eye, blinking it back. When the Doctor began rocking her gently, the second and third tears got away on her. When he murmured quietly that he had her, she stopped counting and let herself cry until the tears stopped coming, leaving her feeling empty in an eerie, weightless kind of way. She let herself float off in the sensation of emptiness, what little she had left of consciousness dimming as she fell asleep in his arms.

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><p>Clara almost launched out of the Doctor's arms when the TARDIS doors were thrown open, revealing the newly regenerated Doctor, scowling in such a way that seemed a natural fit for his sharp features.<p>

"What're you doing in here? With _him_?" The new Doctor roared, pointing first at Clara, then gesturing at the offending TARDIS and finally leveling his index finger at his former self.

"Till about thirty seconds ago, she was _sleeping_." The younger Doctor hissed.

"Well if you wanted somewhere to sleep, why aren't you in _my_ TARDIS then?" The other Doctor spat.

"Couldn't you argue I am, though? What's a couple hundred years of life to miss between friends, right? Isn't it all just _timey_ _whimey_. That's what _he_ always used to say." Clara growled right back, sliding off of the jump seat and out of the warm protective grasp that went with it.

"No, that is not what _he_ always used to say. It's what _I _always used to say, though Gods know why." If possible, the Doctor's scowl intensified – a storm on his face.

"Oh… we're judgemental now are we? Judgemental and _still _not ginger." The younger Doctor mused as he strode towards the pair, hands thrust into his pockets and elbows sticking out. The placement of his hands only served to emphasise the easy nature of his strut. "Apparently forgetful, too. I hear you need a hand with flying?"

"Well, if any of me has a _hand_ to spare, it would be you, wouldn't it?" The grey Doctor mused, huffing a laugh at a joke neither Clara nor his younger self understood.

"You'd need a different one of us if you are looking for someone who's _all ears_ for the jokes."

The two men squared their shoulders and appraised each other in silence for a moment.

While both Doctors emitted a kind of pull – their own personal gravity, it was in entirely different ways. The older Doctor demanded attention, compelling notice through sheer force and a kind of majesty you were afraid to take your eyes off of. The younger Doctor simply drew you in almost without your notice, radiant emotions and broadcast curiosity stirring a sense of trust and a desire for adventure deep within the soul.

"A refresher might help. I'll meet you back at the TARDIS." The older Doctor grunted, sweeping in a turn and slamming the TARDIS doors behind him.

"Don't you let him make you feel bad." The Doctor crooned at the ceiling.

Clara pulled at her cardigan, straightening the sleeves that had rumpled while she slept. "Better follow him."

"You don't have to you know, right?"

"You're right, I don't." Clara whispered with a smile. She could choose to follow him, or she could choose not to. She had complete power over her own decision in this moment again. "I want to, though. Gotta keep your future in safe hands after all." She chuckled slightly, taking her first moment to enjoy the paradoxical nature of meeting someone out of order. Did she say that because she had heard him say it before? Or did he say it then because he heard her say it now?

The Doctor offered her a bemused smile. "Well in that case, best not keep the old man waiting." He swept his trench coat off the railing and shimmied into it before offering Clara his arm once again. "Together then?"

"Allons-y." Clara smirked.


	3. Part III

**A/N: And here is part three of three! Thank you so much, dear readers, for all of the kind words on this story so far! Writing Ten has been an unusual pleasure. :)**

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><p><strong>Arrêter: Part III<br>**

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><p>The TARDIS was hollowly empty when Clara slipped inside the doors behind the Doctor. The two took a brief wander through the corridors, but the new Doctor was nowhere to be found. It was only half an hour later, when they had almost decided to go looking for him that he wandered in without an explanation, or an apology.<p>

The jerking stop and start motion that characterized the new Doctor's first few attempts to fly might have proved that the TARDIS was resilient even in the hands of an amateur, but the uncontrolled motion was grating on what was left of Clara's nerves.

_We're not talking cheese grater here._

She shook her head to try to clear the specter away as she flung around to the far side of the console, trying her best to compensate for her failing co-pilot

"Ease on the brake! You don't have to wrench it like that, use some finesse! Have some respect!" The younger Doctor howled as they slammed to a shuddering stop before lurching forward again.

"Easy for you to say! You've had time to get used to your elbows! I don't think I like these ones. They're all creaky and knobby…"

"Do you like them more or less than the colour of your kidneys?" Clara snarled as she reached up to balance a stabilizer that had blown out of alignment. The poor thing couldn't get a clear reading – the motions that needed countering were changing in orientation too quickly for it to keep up.

"I haven't decided what their respective rankings are yeeeeet!" The Doctor's voice broke unexpectedly high as the TARDIS spun, throwing her passengers off to the right. Clara's single handed grip gave out on her, sending her sliding around the edge of the console. The left knobby, creaky elbow of the Doctor leapt into action, flinging around her awkwardly, but strongly enough to set her balance again before whipping back to the controls in front of him.

It took a further seven laps around the lesser moon of Suiko IX, and a few trips to both the relative past (the first time they almost took the cap stone off a pyramid at Giza just seconds after it had been set into place) and the future (where at one point they ended up somewhere in the middle of Venus the Planet, instead of the Nexicorean Temple of Venus) before the younger Doctor conceded that the newest face had some rudimentary capacity to pilot his ship.

"You're really going to need Clara's help for a while…" The Doctor panted as he leaned back into the railing. He fumbled blindly beside him, hand searching for the coat and suit jacket he'd discarded near the beginning of the ordeal. Although the metallic room usually had a coolness to it, the temperature had soared in tandem with their frustration, leaving a hazy steam in the air, and a sheen of sweat on the three occupants. Clara pulled her cardigan sleeves up higher before shifting the Doctor's clothes along the railing towards his reaching hand. He smiled in thanks.

"I can handle it on my own. Why don't you go back to your own ship, so we can go try to save our planet? Clara and I will be fine." Came a barking reply that set Clara's shoulders into a tight squaring.

There were thoughts that boiled in her mind that screamed at her to dispute that assertion – but as she tried to bring them to form words, they seemed to slip away from her grasp, and she eventually gave in to the emptiness that was reclaiming her mind. The heated words being thrown between Doctors trickled back into her ears, filling the space her thoughts had vacated with a booming volume.

"Well if that's what you think, you might want to try to do a better job of it then!"

"Heh, that's a bit rich coming from you!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, right." The older Doctor huffed satisfactorily. "You don't _know_ about Martha and her year that never was yet. Or Joan Redford and how you hurt her. Or about what happened to _Donna_."

"Donna? _What_?"

"Stop." Clara finally said. It wasn't a bellowing command. In fact it was barely even audible compared to the level of voice the two men had been using. But it held all the quietly unsettling authority of someone who had quite simply had enough.

She turned to the younger Doctor. His face was flushed, and those lips that could turn into such a bright smile were twisted into a glower, though not one aimed at her.

"I'll make sure we get to Gallifrey, and that he doesn't take out any ancient wonders of the world in the process." She promised.

"That capstone wouldn't have even _been_ there if we'd arrived _two minutes_ earlier – there would have been several feet of clearance!" The other Doctor protested behind her.

"It's probably best if we do this now - who knows how much longer his energy is going to last."

"The markets of Nandoon are very boring even in the seventy-second century! It wasn't my fault I passed out on the way to them…"

An apology passed between her the Doctor before her.

"If you're absolutely sure."

The younger Doctor wrapped her into a hug, which she returned despite the scoffing behind them. He pressed a piece of warm paper into her palm, bending down to whisper in her ear. "I'm going to take a brief detour back to refuel at the rift in Cardiff. Don't know how much this crazy idea of freezing an entire planet will drain the old girl, so better to have her at her best. That is the TARDIS number, but with a space-time area code for where I'll be – in a nice, flexible point in time where I will still be out of sync with the rest of my timeline. If you're ever lost, if you ever need someone, please call me. And remember, you don't have to be screaming to deserve help, okay?" He stood up straight, pressing a swift kiss to her hair before striding out the door, his coat tails flying behind him.

Clara braced herself for a moment before rounding on the only Doctor left in the room. He tutted in such a way that was sure to mark the beginning of a lecture, but Clara never let him start. She understood now what needed to be sorted out, what had been so important before, but so unclear.

"What took you so long to get back here?"

"I…" He shuffled on his feet, taking on the air of a skulking schoolboy. "I got lost on the way back if you must know. I was turned around in those alleyways - they all look the same! When I couldn't find the TARDIS… I thought for a few minutes you two had flown off without me."

"Not such a great feeling, is it? That fear of being _left behind_. Feeling your blood turn to ice in your veins, freezing you to the spot and stopping your brain, leaving you with only the feeling of your heart racing, and you're trying to think – but you can't, so you're left with nothing but a consuming emptiness."

"Clara…"

"You will never send me away like that, again." He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up her hand to stop him, unable to keep the fierceness from her eyes. "No, stop. I don't want your promises, because I don't want lies. I told hi-" She hesitated, and he hung on her pause. His hawkish eyebrows arched up his forehead, widening his gaze that continued to burn into her.

"I already said it once," she recovered clumsily. His expression soured, though probably not as much as it would've if she'd said 'him,' instead of 'you,' again.

"If you want to travel with me, that's fine, but I've told you before, and I'll say it again: I am not bargain basement stand in. I will not have choices made for me, without even knowing a decision is going on. I will not be lied to and manipulated. I will not be someone else's 'victory.' I want to travel _with_ you, not _for_ you."

"You're not the one competing with a ghost." He finally said quietly.

She shook her head at him. "I don't want this to be a ghost story."

"What kind of story are we then, Clara?"

_This isn't a_ _ghost story…_

Is this how he had felt before? Haunted by the way she moved, or the words she spoke that reverberated back to the echoes he had already met? Trying to work out how they connected, and how he felt about her? Trying to decide if this was all one big trap of some kind, or something he could believe in?

She took a deep breath. "I hope we're the kind that hasn't ended yet."

Her answer seemed to stir something new in him, warming his features – the new heat in his eyes radiating curiosity instead of admonishment.

"I suppose we have a rather important task begging our attention at the moment, don't we? Gallifrey and the Daleks await us."

"We do, yeah." She agreed.

He turned about on his heels, the tails of the old purple frock coat flying around him in a very familiar fashion.

He strode forward, before stooping down to pick something up off the floor.

"Clara, would you come here please?" He asked.

She pulled her arms close to her chest before following him. He took her hand, laying it flat in his palm before placing what he'd scooped up across her fingers.

It was his bowtie.

Clara wrapped the silk through her fingers, before turning her hand to rest in his. They stood absolutely still for a moment in utter silence. Even the usual hum of the TARDIS remained absent.

"You know, now that I've thought about it some more, I'm not very confident of my ability to fly this thing after all. At least… not yet. Will you… will you help me, Clara?"

The question hung between them, suspended in the brief seconds that passed by.

"Yes, I will," she tasted the word on her tongue before using it, "Doctor."


End file.
